


Lefted Behind - This Too Shall Pass

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Smarm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-17
Updated: 2005-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10350786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: Written by Charli Booker and GallagaterSUMMARY: The SGC has once again been overrun by an alien incursion, but this one has Jack O’Neill wrapped around her little finger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 FanFiction - Lefted Behind - This Too Shall Pass

“Any time you see a turtle up on top of a fence post, you know he had some help.” Alex Haley 

* * * * * 

Gathering speed, the engine revved as the vehicle careened around the corner, completely out of control. Jack could only watch in silent horror as the machine’s center of gravity crossed the point of no return, and the wheels lost their tenuous grip on the slick surface. Despite knowing there was nothing he could do, he ran to catch up. He made the turn just in time to see the vehicle veer in the opposite direction, miraculously righting itself before it plunged straight into the crowd of unwary pedestrians. 

“Watch out!” he warned too late. 

There were yells, groans, and curses as objects flew into the air and landed with a clatter. People dove out of the way, with the exception of one valiant young man who lunged for the machine in an ill-fated attempt to save them all, including the hapless driver. At last, the machine slid to a stop mere inches from the concrete wall, and the motor gave a final, heroic belch before dying. Standing at the edge of the mass disaster, drenched in the sudden silence that fell over the scene, Jack cringed then immediately began to shove his way through the disheveled crowd towards what must surely be the wounded driver. Forcing his way through the jumble of stunned survivors, climbing over the scattered debris left in the wake of the out-of-control vehicle, his heart raced and his stomach flip-flopped alarmingly until he heard the unmistakable laughter of a four year-old girl. 

“Maci?” Pushing aside a dining table, Jack saw her. Sitting astride her bright orange, knee-high, battery-powered Harley, wearing a brand new pair of jeans, t-shirt and pink ball cap, and with his sunglasses dangling around her neck, Maci was chuckling with pure joy. 

“That was fun, Jack. Make it go again.” 

Flashing an apologetic grin at the nearby diners, Jack stiffly squatted down to pick up a plate of what had to have been bacon and eggs – definitely scrambled now - and an odd assortment of silverware. Setting the items on the nearest table, he straightened a chair that had been knocked over, and wincing, struggled back to his feet. “Let’s wait until after breakfast, okay?” 

“I’m not hungry. Make it go,” she pleaded. 

“No, not right now. It’s time to eat. See, Teal’c and Carter are already here.” He pointed to his two teammates, who were sitting at a table on the far side of the room. Her face flushed, Carter looked embarrassed, while Teal’c, who was buttering a large biscuit, appeared to be amused. “Besides, I think maybe we should stick to riding the Harley only in the halls. Okay?” 

Pulling Lucky free from the bungee cord that Jack had used to strap him to the handlebars of the Big Wheel, Maci clutched the rabbit to her chest and stared up at him. “Why?” 

He looked around him at the diners who were just now settling back down to eat. “I think it’d be . . . safer. For everyone.” 

“Why would it be safer?” 

Sighing, Jack forced a smile and taking her hand, he helped her off the bike and led her towards the buffet line. It was not quite oh-seven hundred hours. He and Maci had been up for a little over an hour. Between a crappy night’s sleep on a too-short cot with a bar across the middle of it, trying to grab a quick shower while a four year-old girl pounded on the door demanding to know why it was locked and if he was using all her bubble stuff, helping her get dressed, and answering endless questions that started and ended with the word ‘why,’ Jack was already exhausted. 

“Why, Jack?” 

“Huh?” Half listening, he picked up a tray, trying not to grimace at the muscle spasm which shot across his low back. Thinking a change of subject was in order, he grinned. “Hey, I’m starving. How about you?” 

Holding onto him with one hand, clutching Lucky with the other, she shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Well, you should eat something. What sounds good?” 

Standing on her tiptoes, Maci tried to look at the choices. “I can’t see,” she stated, stretching up her arms to him. 

Setting the tray on the counter, Jack leaned over and picked her up, his back screaming a fiery protest. He groaned as Maci settled her weight into the crook of his left arm and tucked her legs around his middle. A small, bony knee jabbed into a sore spot near his spine, and a bare foot - she’d refused shoes and socks \- dug into his hip. 

“Colonel,” the young woman behind the serving line greeted him with a smile. “What’ll it be this morning, sir?” 

Jack studied the choices. “Do you like gravy?” he questioned Maci. 

“Does it tasted like oatmeal?” 

“No. It tastes nothing like oatmeal.” Frowning, he made his decision. “A couple of biscuits. One with gravy, one without. A side of scrambled eggs. Some link sausage.” 

“I want that,” Maci demanded, pointing at a small container of yogurt. 

“Yeah, okay. Give us a yogurt.” 

“What about fruit poops, Jack? You said we like fruit poops.” 

Soft laughter broke out around them, quickly silenced by Jack’s tired glare at the offenders. “Actually, it’s Froot Loops.” He nodded at the server. “A box of Froot Loops.” 

Still smiling, the woman reached across the steaming pans of breakfast food, and set a heaping plate, an empty bowl, and a small box of dry cereal on his tray. A middle-aged man stepped up next to the server and grinned broadly at Jack. He held up a glass of milk and a cup of coffee guaranteed to be bitter and hot. 

“Thanks, Cookie, but since when did you start serving that crap you call food?” 

The chef laughed and set the drinks on Jack’s tray. “Since I heard you’d gotten yourself a new sidekick, Colonel. I just had to see it for myself.” Cookie, otherwise known as Wayne Banks and more recently as grandpa, smiled at Maci. “So, young lady, what’s your name?” 

Tightening her hold, Maci grinned shyly at the nice man and laid her head on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Not talking, huh?” Cookie reached over and gently tugged on the bill of her cap, then pulled one of the rabbit’s ears. “What’s that you got there?” 

Brightening, Maci straightened and held out her toy with one hand. “Jack gotted Lucky last night.” 

Jack felt the blood rush to his face as muted laughter broke out around him. “Uh . . . Lucky, that’s the rabbit’s name,” he loudly announced. 

Cookie smiled. “Sure, Colonel. Whatever you say.” Nudging, the young woman beside him, he winked. “Why don’t you carry Lucky’s . . . I mean, the colonel’s tray to his table for him, Anne.” 

“Sure.” 

Thanking the woman, Jack lowered Maci onto a chair across from Teal’c. Biting back a groan, he eased himself down next to her. 

“Good morning, O’Neill. Maci.” Teal’c nodded a greeting. 

Her head barely clearing the top of the table, Maci wrapped both arms around Lucky, and stared over at the large Jaffa. Jack set the glass of milk in front of her, and frowned. “Aren’t you going to say good morning?” 

“Good morning, Teek,” she reluctantly mumbled. 

“Morning, Colonel.” 

“Carter,” Jack acknowledged then took a drink of his coffee. “How’s that Slinky coming along?” 

Sam flinched, and glanced at Maci. “Uh, yeah. I’ll work on it first thing.” She watched Jack offer Maci a bite of scrambled egg. Shaking her head in mute refusal, the girl pointed at the box of cereal. Sam grinned at Maci as Jack emptied Froot Loops into the bowl. “Hey, whatcha got there, Maci? Cereal?” 

Maci scowled at her. “It’s fruit poops, and you can’t have any.” 

“Be nice,” Jack softly instructed, removing her cap and setting it on the table. 

“Well, she can’t.” Maci made a half-hearted attempt to reach the bowl sitting on the table. “I can’t reach it, Jack. I’m too little.” 

“Why don’t you get on your knees?” 

Her bottom lip stuck out, Maci shook her head. “I can’t.” 

Jack reached over and lifted her onto her knees. As soon as he released her, the pain in his low back flared and Maci sank back down onto her butt. “Come on, kiddo. You have to sit up.” 

On the verge of tears, Maci shook her head. “I can’t. Hold me, Jack.” 

A soft sigh his only protest, Jack pulled her onto his lap. “Now, what do you want to eat? Your cereal?” She shook her head. “How about your yogurt?” When she didn’t respond, he took that as a yes, and pulled the foil off the top of the container. Holding the cup of yogurt in one hand, he tried to hand her a spoon. Instead of taking it, she clutched Lucky tighter and pressed her head against his chest. Jack set down the yogurt and craned his head to look at her. “What’s the matter?” 

Liquid, golden eyes briefly met his gaze before she squirmed, leaning into him. Finally, Jack wrapped an arm around her and settled in to drink his coffee. Whatever it was, apparently she didn’t want to discuss it. He could relate to that. Sometimes a fella just needed to be held. Without thinking about it, he gently rubbed her arm in a soothing fashion as he ate and talked with his teammates about an upcoming mission. 

“Morning, guys.” Carrying a donut and a cup of coffee, Daniel sat down in what had been Maci’s chair. “Hi, Maci.” 

Grunting softly, she snuggled closer to Jack and played half-heartedly with one of Lucky’s ears. 

Daniel held out his pastry. “Want a bite?” 

“No. Jack,” she tugged on the collar of his shirt, “can we go see the turtle babies?” 

“Uh, in a bit. That reminds me . . . guys, I may need your help with something.” 

“Sure, Colonel. What?” 

“Well, Carter, you should probably get busy on that Slinky project, but Daniel, Teal’c, I may need some assistance with,” Jack glanced down at the girl on his lap, “uh, inding-fay ome-say urtle-tay abies-bay.” 

There was a brief pause during which Daniel and Teal’c exchanged a puzzled glance before Daniel frowned over at Jack. “What?” 

“Oh, good grief. You can’t speak Pig Latin? And you call yourself a linguist?” 

“Jack?” Maci tugged on his shirt. 

“What, sweetie?” 

“My tummy hurts.” 

Already thinking about where on Earth he was going to find turtle eggs, Jack picked up the glass of milk. “Here. You’re probably just hungry. Why don’t you drink this.” 

“No.” She shoved it away, slopping milk onto the table. “I don’t want it," she whined. "I want my turtle babies.” 

“Come on, Mace. We’ll look in on your turtle babies later. Right now, you should eat something. How about some cereal?” 

She shook her head emphatically. 

“Hey,” Daniel tried, “is that your motorcycle over there in the corner?” 

Frowning, Maci squirmed on Jack’s lap and finally nodded. “Yes. It goes fasted.” 

“Really? Maybe you’ll let Teal’c ride it later. I think he’s just chomping at the bit to try it out. What do you say?” Daniel grinned over at a concerned looking Teal’c. 

Maci also looked over at the large Jaffa. Tugging on Jack’s shirt, she fidgeted. “You can ride it, Teek. I’ll show you.” 

Teal’c bobbed his head slightly. “I shall look forward to it.” 

Jack groaned loudly as Maci shifted her weight, kneeing him in the stomach. Biting back a tired admonishment, he looked down into the worried frown of a lost little girl. “Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?” 

“I have to go to the bafroom.” 

“Oh.” He set down his coffee cup. “Well, okay. We can do that. Uh, Carter, maybe you could-” 

“No!” Maci immediately protested, throwing a scared glare at Sam. As Jack lifted her off his lap and set her on the floor, she struggled to get back in his arms. “You take me.” 

“Well, I think maybe-” 

Clinging to his arm, one tiny fist wrapped around Lucky’s left ear, Maci started bouncing on her toes. “I have to go now, Jack.” 

He hesitated, chewing his bottom lip and eyeing his teammates. 

“It would appear that the child’s need is urgent, O’Neill.” 

“Huh?” Jack flinched then stared down at the frantic girl. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right.” Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, his back twinging painfully. “Okay. Come on. There’s one down the hall.” 

“Have fun, Jack,” Daniel called. 

* * * * * 

Making quick work of his jelly-filled donut, Daniel Jackson listened as Sam talked about the team’s upcoming mission to P3M409. She could hardly wait. Apparently, the latest news from Jacob was that one of the Tok’ra spies who’d infiltrated the Goa’uld ranks had sent word back to the high council that Yu had stashed Goa’uld technology somewhere not far from the Stargate on P3M-409. According to Jack, the only reason ‘dad’ had told the lowly Tau’ri was because (a) the Tok’ra doubted the rumor was true; (b) the Tok’ra believed the risks were far greater than the rewards; (c) the Tok’ra were just trying to soften up the Tau’ri before they asked for some huge, honkin’ favor; and (d) all of the above. 

Hammond had ordered reconnaissance four days ago. At that time, UAV’s had revealed two possible locations. Since then, MALP's had been put in place at strategic points around the gate, monitoring any and all activity. The general wanted to make absolutely sure there were no Jaffa in the vicinity before he allowed a team to go through. 

Daniel sipped the last of his coffee. “So, you think SG1 will still go, or will the general reassign the mission?” 

Sam frowned. “Why would he do that?” 

He shrugged. “Maci, of course.” 

A puzzled look on her face, Sam shrugged back. “What about her?” 

“I believe Daniel Jackson is referring to the fact that Maci seems quite attached to O’Neill.” 

Still not getting it, Sam eyed both men. “Am I missing something here?” 

“Apparently.” Daniel smiled. “I don’t think Maci would react too well to Jack leaving to go off on a mission.” 

“Well, we can’t very well put the team on stand-down just because of an alien kid. I mean, there’s too much going on right now. As it is, the teams are spread pretty thin. Besides, I doubt the colonel wants to give up possible Goa’uld technology just so he can . . . babysit.” Sam laughed softly. “Yeah, I’m sure SG1 will get the assignment.” 

Daniel exchanged a silent look with Teal’c before setting down his cup and grabbing the pink baseball cap from the table. “Well, I think I’ll go see how Jack’s doing before I hit the books again. See you guys later.” 

He found Jack two corridors away, leaning against the wall and repeatedly tossing Lucky into the air and catching him by a furry hind leg. “Jack?” 

Jack glanced over at him and straightened. “Oh. Hey, Daniel.” 

“Is she . . .” Daniel nodded towards the bathroom door. 

Glancing at it, Jack blushed slightly. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Well, is she okay?” 

“I guess so. I mean, I got her,” Jack rolled his shoulders, obviously uncomfortable, “situated.” 

Daniel glanced at his watch and saw the ballcap. “Oh, here. I thought she might want this.” 

“Thanks,” Jack said, stuffing the cap in his back pocket. 

“She’s been in there an awfully long time, Jack.” 

Jack frowned over at the door. “You think?” 

“Yeah. I do.” 

“Hmm,” Jack glanced at Daniel and back at the door. “Well . . . sure. Okay.” Cautiously, he approached the door, pressed one ear against it, and rapped on it lightly. “Uh, Maci, you almost done in there?” 

There was a pause - a long enough one that Jack opened his mouth to call out again - before the child’s muted voice filtered out through the metal door. “Maybe,” she replied uncertainly. 

Jack frowned. “Well, is something wrong? You’ve been in there a really long time.” 

She mumbled something unintelligible. 

Jack pressed himself closer to the door and raised his voice. “What?” 

“I said, I have to squeeze really hard and press my lips together to get it out!” 

Lucky clutched tightly in the crook of one arm, Jack straightened and stared over at him, wide-eyed. Daniel watched a pink blush creep up Jack’s neck, slide over the rigid jawbone, and mount the high cheekbones. Biting back a stubborn smile, Daniel swallowed laughter at the hard-assed colonel’s predicament. But, when he suddenly saw movement behind Jack, he lost his battle and a short bark of laughter escaped before he could bite his lip and vanquish the interloper. Jack winced and spun, looking behind him. Three young airmen were watching in mute fascination. 

“Jack!” Maci called. 

Ignoring her, Jack glared at the two men and the woman. “Is there a problem here, airmen?” 

“Uh. . . .” One of the men glanced at his companions for assistance. When none seemed forthcoming, he stiffened and smiled back at the intimidating figure of Jack O’Neill in full piss mode. “No, sir. We just thought-” 

“I’m squeezing as hard as I can!” When there was no response, Maci’s voice increased impossibly in volume. “Jack, are you there? Did you lefted me?” 

Sighing softly, his eyes still on the airmen, Jack leaned closer to the door. “I’m right here.” 

“I thought you lefted me!” 

“No. I didn’t leave.” 

“It’s hard to get this poop out, Jack!” 

Daniel saw Jack’s eyes close momentarily, and he knew that despite the stiff shoulders, Jack was absolutely mortified. At this very moment, he was probably praying for an Asgaard beam or, barring that, for the detonation of a naquadah-enhanced bomb. Long fingers curled around Lucky’s furry neck in a death-inducing stranglehold. 

His face muscles aching from the constant battle to not laugh, to not grin, Daniel wrapped one arm over his chest and covered his mouth with his other hand. “Um, Jack, do you think maybe you should . . .,” he paused as unforgiving brown eyes fastened on him, “maybe you should . . . help her?” 

In slow motion, Jack blinked, and Daniel knew without a doubt that if Jack were armed, he would be a dead man. Waiting for a ‘go to hell’ or a ‘drop dead,’ Daniel was surprised when Jack merely leaned close to the door and gently said, “Well, maybe you’re done, kiddo.” 

There was a momentarily silence, and Daniel was beginning to think that Jack had found the break he needed, the one he possibly even deserved. “No,” Maci called. “I can still feel it up there.” 

Something in Jack snapped. It was nearly audible. And, as Daniel watched the shoulders slump and the grip on the stuffed bunny slacken, he was pretty sure he saw Jack’s pride slip like a shade down the door against which Jack leaned, slide down onto the hard cement floor, and ooze like a bastardly traitor around the corner, headed for a getaway in the gateroom. 

Jack hazarded a glance at the airmen who, still in awe of what they were witnessing, were frozen in place. “Dismissed, airmen.” When they hesitated, Jack glared. “That was a polite way of saying get the hell out of here.” 

“Yes, sir,” the woman replied and, tugging on her companions’ sleeves, she led them down the hallway. 

When they were alone, Jack muttered a soft ‘God help me,’ handed Lucky over to Daniel, and slipped inside the bathroom. Staring at the soft bunny rabbit, Daniel bent the wiry ears to hang down over Lucky’s narrow shoulders, and smiled as he listened to the formidable warrior and his diminutive equal. 

“What seems to be the problem, kid?” 

“I can’t get it out, Jack.” 

“Well, did you get any of it out? Woah! Yeah, okay. I guess that’s a ‘yes.’” 

“Where’s Lucky?” 

“Daniel’s taking care of Lucky.” 

“We like Daniel, don’t we, Jack?” 

Daniel frowned and cocked his head at the long pause which followed then smiled at Jack’s soft, “Yeah, Daniel’s okay. Hey, tell you what . . . why don’t we stop for now. Maybe later, it’ll come out on its own.” 

“But, I don’t want to poop my pants.” 

“Well, I don’t think that’ll happen. We’ll just get you cleaned up, and then later, when you think you have to go again, we’ll come back. All you have to do is let me know, and we’ll stop whatever we’re doing. Okay?” 

“Okay. Jack, can we go see my turtle babies now?” 

“Uh . . . .” There was the sound of toilet paper being rolled and then Jack’s soft groan. Daniel could almost hear the man’s knees pop as he pictured Jack squatting down to wipe a four year-old butt. “Man,” Jack coughed softly, “you . . . you did a pretty good job of it, kid.” 

“My tummy was hurting. I think it was oatmeal.” 

“Does it feel better now?” 

“Yeah, except for that poop still up there. Jack, can we go see my turtle babies?” 

“Gosh, you know, it’s pretty early. I’ll bet they’re still sleeping. We should probably wait until later.” The stool flushed. “Let’s wash up, and then why don’t we go see how Carter’s doing with that Slinky.” 

“What’s this, Jack?” 

“That’s a zipper.” 

“Zipper,” Maci repeated, as Jack obviously adjusted her clothes. “Jack?” 

“What?” 

“Do we like Carter?” 

“Carter’s okay. She's just not very good with kids.” 

“Doesn’t she like kids?” 

“Yeah, she likes them. It’s just, well, she’s a scientist.” 

“Scientists are weird,” she stated in an obvious recital of something someone had already drilled into her. 

Daniel laughed softly, and added a kink to Lucky’s right ear. 

“Exactly,” Jack agreed over the sound of the faucet. “So, we good to go?” 

“Don’t forget my motorcycle, Jack.” 

“You can drive it in Carter’s lab. She’ll love it.” The bathroom door opened wide and Jack and Maci emerged, both smiling. 

“Hi, Maci. Feeling better?” Daniel asked as he held out the rabbit. 

“Yeah, but when I have to poop later, Jack’s gotta take me right away so I don’t poop my new jeans.” Bending over, sucking in her soft belly, Maci pointed at her pants. “I have a zipper, Daniel.” 

“Wow.” 

“Daniel,” Jack interrupted, “how’d you like to take Maci down to Carter’s lab? I’ve got some, uh, urtles-tay to find.” 

Daniel frowned, reluctant to admit that Pig Latin was a language that had always stumped him. “Uh, sure, Jack.” 

“No.” Maci pushed impatiently at the tangle of curls flopping over her eyes as she shook her head. “We have to go and wait for the rest of the poop to come out.” 

Daniel bit back a grin as Jack shifted his weight and stared at the concrete wall to his right. He cleared his throat and looked down at his charge. “Listen, kiddo, all you have to do is tell Carter and she’ll stop whatever she’s doing and take you to the bathroom.” 

“No, Jack, she's not good with kids. She might not take me in time. Then my new jeans would get messed up.” 

Jack sighed, running his hand over his aching neck. “Okay, change in plans. Daniel, Maci and I are going to go back to the VIP room, and you're going to go round up some volunteers. 

* * * * * 

“Am I doing it right, Jack? I’m trying to make it look like those pot things in Daniel’s room, but it keeps trying to lay down.” 

Jack leaned back, rolling his neck and ignoring the audible cracks and pops that sounded. Grunting against the protest his back was issuing, he pushed himself away from the desk where, in theory, he was supposed to be working on a report for Hammond. Somehow, he didn’t think the general was going to be too impressed with a personnel report bearing a variety of turtle doodles on the margins. Maybe he could claim shell shock. With a heavy sigh, he minimized the website he’d been perusing. 

An impatient, exasperated grunt drew his attention to where Maci sat cross-legged on the floor working with her modeling clay. “It don’t look like the picture on the box.” Walking over to take a look, Jack bit back a groan as he squatted down beside her. “Will you help me, please?” 

“Let’s see what you’ve done.” 

Pure self-disgust crinkled her features as she held up a semi-cylindrical blob of partially hollowed out clay. “I want it to look like that.” Maci pointed a grubby finger toward the multicolored, striped creation advertised on the box lid. She looked up at him, liquid frustration pooling in her eyes. “It don’t look like it at all,” she repeated sorrowfully. 

Jack eased himself onto the hard floor, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a cushion. “Well, it looks to me like you’ve been working pretty hard.” He studied the mottled colors, where tiny fingerprints had left liberal pox marks marring the surface. “I think it looks great,” he told her honestly. 

Maci inched herself onto his lap, leaning back against his chest as she eyed her artistic endeavors critically. “The one on the box is sitting up straight and it holds those yellow flowers in it.” 

And it sure as hell wasn’t done by some four year-old kid, Jack added silently. “Well, maybe we can straighten it up a little.” Wrapping his hands over Maci’s, Jack gently worked the clay. Glancing down, he could see Maci’s eyes were glued to the project, the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. 

His hands, the blood-covered hands of a professional killer, were guiding and molding not only the clay-covered innocence of a child, but shaping her life and her future as well. If Maci were to leave tomorrow to return to her parents, he’d had a part in changing her life forever. A warm rush of emotions caught him off guard. “There, now I think it’ll stand up straighter. Let’s make the inside a little smoother so the yellow flowers can fit in it.” He bit back a grin as Maci copied him, working her tiny thumb next to his crooked one - that crooked thumb, a souvenir of the worst mankind had to offer, working to create something beautiful. “Perfect,” he said softly. 

Maci looked up into his face curiously. Squirming around, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her soft cheek against his. “I love you, Jack,” she whispered. 

Jack returned the embrace, blinking against the sting of fragile beauty he held in his arms. “Me, too, baby.” 

There was a single, sharp knock before the door opened and Daniel stuck his head in. “Jack? You in here?” 

“Daniel, come see my pot,” Maci ordered. “Jack helped me make it stand up so yellow flowers can go in it like the picture on the box.” 

“Huh,” Daniel blinked in surprise at finding Jack sitting on the concrete floor. Edging his way around the doorframe, he walked across the room and grinned down at Jack. “Let me see.” Maci held up the little pot for his inspection, and his smile widened as he carefully took it and examined it. “This is great. Are you sure you made it? I’m almost sure it could be one of the artifacts from my office." 

Maci giggled. “I made it. Do you put yellow flowers in your pots?” 

Jack snorted at the horrified look Daniel was unable to hide. “Ah, no, not normally, but your pot looks perfect for holding . . . ah, yellow flowers." He shot a look at Jack, who shrugged noncommittally. 

“Whatcha need, Daniel?” 

“Those volunteers you wanted are waiting for you outside the infirmary. I figured it was a good location for when you break the news of what you want them to do.” Jack rolled his eyes at Daniel’s smirk. 

"Oh, ye of little faith, Doctor Jackson. Stand back and be amazed. Hop up, kiddo,” he ordered gently, setting Maci on her feet. “Let me see if I can haul my aging carcass up off this floor.” 

“You’re funny, Jack,” Maci chuckled. 

“Oh yeah, real funny.” Jack groaned loudly, working his way to his feet with the help of a nearby chair. “Okay, you guys play nice and I’ll go take care of some urtles-tay business.” 

* * * * * 

Jack realized his mouth was hanging open. He was fully aware this overt behavior countermanded everything he’d learned from OTC and on. But, for the life of him, he simply couldn’t bring himself to hide the overwhelming astonishment that washed through him as his volunteers trooped into the rec room bearing the spoils of their foray into the wilds atop Cheyenne Mountain. 

It had seemed like a good idea. In all honesty, he’d expected a unanimous, ‘Bite me, with all due respect, sir,’ from the men Daniel had managed to round up. But, Daniel must have caught a squad of Marines at breakfast because it seemed the bulk of his volunteers probably had ‘Semper Fi’ tattooed somewhere on their bicep, butt, or upper torso. 

However, despite his apprehension, the guys had been willing – if not eager – to participate in his little search and seizure mission. It probably helped that Daniel had filled them in on the tragic circumstances of Maci’s campaign to save the turtle babies from the ‘Badmeers.’ Oh yeah, no doubt Doctor Jackson had laid it on thick. Jack knew from experience Daniel’s persuasive skills were in a league all their own. That and the fact that a cute little four year-old alien kid was involved – even the toughest Jarhead was a sucker for helping a kid. O’Dwyer had twin boys – complete hellions if the reports were true – to whom he was completely devoted. Lewis had four of varying ages and Kelly had a kid at the Academy. All in all, the group Daniel had recruited was pretty damn prolific and, ergo, a soft touch for Jack's golden-eyed charge. 

“Okay, men, consider this a turtle reconnaissance mission – TRM for short.” 

That was all it had taken. One simple statement responsible for the havoc he was now forced to witness. 

It began with a phone call from security on level sixteen informing him that his presence would be required in the recreation room. Carpenter was standing there grinning like an idiot, cupping a toad – a toad, for crying out loud – in his hands. His buddy, Henton, had a blue-tailed lizard pinched gently between his thumb and forefinger. Stay calm, Jack told himself. Somebody will find one. 

“Mushrooms?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, sir. I found them in the woods. They’re round on top and sort of white. They kind of look like eggs.” 

Jack slowly chewed the inside of his cheek, biting back the frustration. “And exactly how am I supposed to explain the stems, Sergeant?” Jack turned away before the man could stammer an answer. Somebody just please find me a turtle. Is that too much to ask? 

O’Dwyer showed up next sheepishly carrying a massively pissed chipmunk. Jack was trying not to build up false hope. After all, odds that the guys would find a nest full of turtle eggs were pretty slim. But, he was holding out hope that they might scout out a box turtle or two in the woods. He figured he’d be able to convince Maci that her turtle babies were just big for their age. After all, a turtle was a turtle – or so he thought until Lewis and Kelly stumbled in carrying an immense, butt-ugly granddad of a snapping turtle. 

If someone had asked him, Jack O’Neill would have said that few things in this world or the next were capable of surprising him. But, two U.S. Marines bearing a shelled monster the size and shape of a manhole cover left him slack-jawed and gawking. 

“My God, that thing looks like Bra’tac.” Crap, did I say that aloud, he admonished himself. The hulking turtle latched on to Jack with a beady-eyed promise of the damage it would inflict when the time was right. Looking at the gaping maw ready and willing to remove his fingers one at a time, Jack shuddered. “Acts like him, too.” 

“Colonel, you oughta see the sticks it can snap in two.” 

“And just what am I supposed to do with that thing? Did you clowns give any consideration to a little kid’s hand, or lack thereof, when that monster decides to clamp down?” Jack glared at his sheepish volunteers. 

“Yes, sir. We knew you couldn’t use it as a pet or anything. We just thought it was pretty cool and wanted to show you.” 

“Well, thanks a lot, boys,” Jack snapped, “but show and tell is now officially over, so get that thing topside before it . . .” He was interrupted as the door swung open wide and Janet Frasier strolled in. 

“Hey, Colonel, I heard you had quite a zoo in here. I thought I’d come by and take a look.” Janet gaped at the scene. 

Chippy, sensing his opportunity had come, acted on it as he made a heroic effort, nipped O’Dwyer on the thumb and made a break for the hall. Dodging between Janet’s high-heeled feet, the determined rodent earned a piercing screech from the diminutive doctor as she leaped inelegantly into the air. 

“Doc, close the damn door!” 

“It’s a little late for that, Sir,” Janet huffed, straightening her labcoat. “Elvis has left the building.” 

“Shit.” Jack glared at the two Marines still cautiously holding Bra’tac’s namesake between them. “Lewis, you and Kelly, put down that damn snapper and recapture that thing,” Jack ordered. An evil hiss sounded as the turtle was lowered to the floor. Its mouth opened wide as the pissed off terrapin made it clear it was ready to take on the lot of them; not only that, it guaranteed a suicide mission should anyone be foolish enough to come within striking distance. 

“Colonel O’Neill,” Janet snapped as she moved over to O’Dwyer, giving Bra’tac Junior a wide berth, “that animal bit this man. It could have rabies. It’s imperative you recapture it so we can have it isolated and tested.” O’Dwyer was spouting muffled curses around the injured thumb stuck in his mouth. 

Damage control, Jack wisely thought. Think damage control. “Working on it, Doc. You men heard her. Go!” 

The former turtle wranglers turned chipmunk posse dodged past Siler who flattened himself up against the doorframe in order to avoid the stampede. 

“Siler, did you see a chipmunk run past you in the hall?” 

Though clearly dumbfounded, Siler drew on his illustrious composure and shook his head. “No, sir. No chipmunk passed me.” 

“Which way did you come?” 

“East, Colonel,” Siler reported calmly. 

“You catch that, Lewis? Head west. And God help us if that thing crosses paths with Hammond. The rest of you, police this room while I go figure out a way to remove any evidence the SGC's been infiltrated by a rogue chipmunk.” 

“Colonel, excuse me, sir, but I came to tell you that I might have a temporary solution to your egg problem.” 

“Spill it, Siler. That kind of news I need.” 

“Well, sir, I have a clutch of eggs about ready to hatch, and I seriously doubt a child could tell what species they come from.” 

Jack blinked a feeble protest to a threatening headache which vowed to permeate his skull. “Dare I ask?” 

“Burmese Python, sir.” 

“Oiy,” Jack groaned. 

“My wife says one snake in the house is too many and the eggs definitely have to go. I just thought it might buy you some time, sir.” 

Jack rolled his eyes as Henton made a wild grab for the lizard, snagging it, only to be left holding a wildly wriggling blue tail between his fingers. “Go get the eggs, Siler,” Jack ordered wearily. 

* * * * * 

He clicked 'send' with a mixed feeling of hope and doom before closing the website. Returning his credit card to his wallet, Jack was still reeling over the cost of ordering half a dozen genuine Mississippi Map baby turtles. Thirty-nine ninety-nine apiece for something that was barely the size of a quarter. Sixteen ninety-five for the bag of turtle food. Not to mention the large deluxe aquarium with the optional sunning log, and the heating system with water purifier. And, he didn’t even want to think about the extra cost to overnight the whole thing from the Bayous of Louisiana. 

Thank God Chippy had finally been cornered against the back wall of the gateroom. Jack closed his eyes against the throbbing pain induced by the sight of the mass confusion of a squad of armed Marines running and tripping after a furious ball of striped fur, and by the enraged bellow of an irate general furiously demanding Jack's presence in his office. 

“Care to explain, Colonel?” Hammond’s glare had deepened as Lewis tapped gingerly on the door. 

“Excuse me, sirs,” Lewis had interrupted. The man was breathing hard and his face was flushed with effort. “I just wanted to let Colonel O’Neill know we captured the perpetrator, and Kelly has taken it to the lab for containment. Is there anything else?” 

Hammond had nailed him with a steely glare. “Well, Colonel? Is there anything else?” 

Jack shook his head miserably. “Well done, Lewis. You’re dismissed.” 

“Yes, sir. Kelly and I will go take care of that big old snapping turtle in the rec room now.” 

“You do that, Corporal,” Hammond interceded. “Colonel O’Neill and I have some things to discuss. Don’t we, Colonel?” 

“Apparently, sir.” He braced himself. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he waited for the firing squad and wished to God, just for today, he hadn’t given up smoking. 

In his very humble opinion, having your pissed off commanding officer chew your ass was a highly overrated pastime. And, somewhere between the phrases, ‘ill-advised conduct’ and ‘untenable consequences,’ he’d begun to wish he was facing off with Bra’tac Junior rather than Hammond. 

Daniel had unwittingly saved him. Someday, he'd have to explain to his civilian scientist it wasn’t kosher to call a two-star general and ask if he’d seen Jack. Yeah, someday, he’d explain that to Daniel, but not today. Today, he wanted to go out and buy him the biggest Espresso con Panna Starbucks offered. 

Hanging up the phone, Hammond had looked at him. “Colonel, that was Doctor Jackson. He wanted you to know that he and Maci are in his office so he can complete the translation Doctor Rothman needs,” the general shared, his forehead puckered in a puzzled frown. Actually, Jack was pretty curious himself how Daniel had managed to get Hammond’s private number. “He also said to tell you, mission accomplished on the bathroom issue.” Hammond’s frown deepened. “Apparently, everything came out just fine and you 'so owe him.'” The general chewed silently on the cryptic message for a long moment. “Dare I ask?” 

“Trust me, sir, you don’t want to know.” Jack rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. 

Leaving the general's office with thoughts of a court martial and the urge to smoke following him like a black cloud, Jack had taken time to check the rec room. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he spotted a single withering mushroom lying under the ping pong table, the apparent lone survivor to Operation Turtle Retrieval. Stopping at his office, he’d surfed for the website he’d scouted out earlier. Barring any complications, Maci would have her turtle babies sometime tomorrow afternoon. 

Making his way to Daniel's lab, Jack hid thoughts of what this little foray was costing him behind the vision of a pair of golden eyes brimming with excitement that she’d done a good thing by rescuing the eggs. 

Daniel was sitting hunched at his desk with his head buried in a book when Jack arrived to reclaim his waif. Scanning the room, Jack grinned at Maci who was sitting on the floor ‘reading’ to Lucky from an enormous college textbook. Jack could sympathize with the rabbit’s glassy-eyed stare, having been in the same position with Carter and Daniel many times himself. “Hey, kiddo, you and Lucky playing school?” 

“Jack, I pooped everything out!” Maci announced happily. “Daniel helped me with my zipper so I wouldn’t mess up my new jeans.” 

“That’s great." Jack winked at her as Daniel looked up from his book and rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. 

Maci looked over at Daniel and then back at Jack and giggled. “Can we go see my turtle babies now?” 

Jack checked his watch. “Yeah, in a few minutes. Siler’s taking care of them right now,” he said in answer to Daniel’s unspoken question. “I need to stop by the lab and check with Doc on O’Dwyer’s test results. Don’t ask,” he ordered wearily before Daniel could voice the question. “How about we get you some lunch? I’ll bet you’re hungry – you didn’t eat any breakfast. Then we’ll go find Siler and your eggs before you take a nap. Sound like a plan?” 

Maci nodded, shoving the book on the floor beside Lucky and climbing to her feet. “I gotta give Daniel his present first.” 

“You made Daniel something?” 

“Uh-huh. Daniel’s funny. I ask him things and he just stares at that big book and says, 'just a minute.'” 

“Oh, yeah, what’d you ask him?” Jack raised an eyebrow. 

“Lots of stuff.” She smiled sweetly at Daniel, who nodded. 

"That's true, Jack. She did." 

“Like?” Jack prompted. 

“If he liked oatmeal, or Carter,” Maci said, making it clear by her tone the two were lumped in the same category in her book. 

“Well, that’s a reasonable question,” Jack replied with a smirk in Daniel’s direction. 

“Then I asked him if it was okay if I painted one of his pretty pots.” 

“What?” Daniel yelped, jumping to his feet. “Jack, tell me she didn’t paint . . .” 

Jack shrugged as Maci hurried over to the bottom shelf on the back wall where Daniel kept a collection of earthenware artifacts. She walked back, carefully carrying a small, oblong vase smeared with a bright collage of fingerpaints. “Uh . . . wow,” he managed. 

Daniel’s mouth dropped open. “Jack . . .” 

“Daniel,” Jack softly warned, “she didn’t know.” With a quiet grunt, he knelt beside the little girl. “Maci, this is really pretty, but . . .” 

“I made it for Daniel 'cause he told me . . . Sha’re,” she worked slowly around the difficult name, “liked yellow flowers, too, and I wanted her to have a pretty pot to put them in.” 

Jack blinked and helplessly glanced up at Daniel. Swallowing hard, he reached out and gently patted her on the back. “That’s really nice, Maci, but what you did was . . .” 

“Really nice,” Daniel interrupted. “Sha’re would love it. So do I,” he added softly, taking the sticky artifact from Maci and setting it on the edge of his desk. “Thank you.” 

Jack lifted up Maci and giving her a quick hug, he snagged Lucky by his furry back leg. "Thanks, Daniel." 

* * * * * 

“I want one of them striped things,” Maci declared loudly as she and Jack walked into their room after lunch. 

“I don’t know about that. Somehow, I don’t think chipmunks make very good pets. Maybe we can think about a hamster, or a gerbil or something. We’ll ask Carter. She’s got all kinds of those ratty things in the science labs.” 

“Jack, look!” Maci squealed, running over to a low cardboard box resting on the bed. “My turtle baby eggs is here!” Grinning, she struggled to climb up next to the box. “Look at ‘em. Aren’t they pretty?” She giggled and gently poked at one egg with the tip of her index finger. 

“Be careful,” Jack warned. “You wouldn’t want to poke a hole in it and cause the turtle to hatch early.” 

“I’ll be careful,” Maci promised. “Look at how big they are? Aren’t they nice, Jack?” 

“The nicest,” Jack agreed. “Okay, kiddo. Turtle time’s over. Close those eyes and get to sleep.” He pulled her into his lap. 

“But, Jack,” Maci wiggled, trying to reach out for the box, “I want my eggs to sleep with me. They miss their mama.” Her voice quivered as she stared at the manmade nest of shredded paper. 

“Okay, we’ll let the eggs stay in their nest and sleep next to you on the cot. Will that work?” Maci nodded and allowed him to lay her gently on the cot. He set the container of eggs next to her and she immediately curled around the box, her little hand reaching up over the lip to stroke the nearest egg tenderly. “Please lay by me, Jack.” 

“How about I stretch out on the big bed while you take your nap?” 

“Okay,” she yawned, her eyes blinking heavily. 

Leaning back, Jack flung his arm behind his head. God, it felt good to stretch out and relax for a minute. Last night’s sleep had been nil. And what the hell was with that freakin' bar under that damn cot anyway? He closed his eyes. 

“Jack?" 

"Hmm?" he replied sleepily. 

"Do you think my turtle babies are getting ready to hatch if them eggs is moving?” 

His eyes snapped open. Struggling to his feet, Jack stared at the eggs, trying to detect movement. Maci had lost her battle to stay awake. Gently, he lifted the little hand from the nest and pulled a blanket over her. 

Tentatively, he reached down and laid his hand on one of the eggs. “Shit.” He jerked back his hand as the egg twitched under his palm. Dammit, there was no way he was going to let Maci sleep with a bunch of snake eggs. Just the thought gave him the creeps. 

Being careful not to wake the little girl, Jack carried the box of eggs into the bathroom and set it in the tub. Fishing in his pocket, he punched number two on his speed dial. “Hey, Teal’c, can you come to the VIP room? I have something I need you to do.” 

Jack was nearly asleep, lulled by Maci’s even breathing, when a soft knock sounded. Forcing his eyes open, he fought off the weight of sleep. “Yeah, come in,” he hissed quietly. 

Teal’c entered and walked silently across the room. Stopping at the foot of the bed, Jack watched as the Jaffa permitted himself a rare smile as he gazed down at the sleeping child. “Hey, T, do me a favor, will ya?” Jack whispered. Teal’c gave a nod of affirmation as Jack gestured vaguely towards the bathroom. “I need you to get rid of those damn snake eggs,” he murmured with a nervous glance at Maci. “Give ‘em back to Siler. He’ll figure out what to do with them.” 

“As you wish. I will do so immediately.” 

“Yeah, thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.” Jack rolled over on his side with a yawn, allowing his eyelids to close. 

“O’Neill,” Teal’c’s deep voice called softly from the bathroom, “I believe your presence is required.” 

Jack groaned and swore softly. “Come on, Teal’c, give me a break,” he groused, mindful of the child snoring softly on the nearby cot. When there was no response, he groaned again and rolled to the edge of the bed. “Teal’c?” With a disgusted sigh, Jack staggered into the bathroom. “What's so damn important that it couldn’t . . . ah, crap.” 

“Indeed,” Teal’c replied smugly, his gaze fixed on Jack's tub. 

Jack stared incredulously at the convulsing tangle of scales and forked tongues shifting through the shredded newspaper. “They hatched?” 

“So it would appear.” 

“Ah, crap,” Jack repeated. 

“So you said, O’Neill.” 

“Great. Just great. Now what am I supposed to do?” 

"I believe there are eight eggs, O'Neill." 

"Yeah,” Jack frowned at the squirming knot of infant pythons crawling through the scattered remains of the eggshells. The men watched in silence as one of the snakes slithered out of the confines of the box and dropped into the tub. Jack shivered and took a step back. “What’s your point?” 

Calmly, his eyes on the snakes, Teal’c tilted his head towards Jack, arching an eyebrow. "There are seven reptiles.” He paused, giving O’Neill a moment. “It would appear one is missing." 

Jack swallowed. "Ah, crap." 

**> fin?< **

  


* * *

  


> Authors’ Note: It has been said that there are times we must get in touch 
> 
> with our inner child. This fic is a result of allowing our inner children access 
> 
> to the same playground. 

* * *

> © April 2005 The characters mentioned in this 
> 
> story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, 
> 
> the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE 
> 
> SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright 
> 
> property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright 
> 
> Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This 
> 
> fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant 
> 
> for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself 
> 
> are the sole property of the author. 


End file.
